Assassin's Creed: Behind Enemy Lines
by psychomidget
Summary: A young French woman moves to the New World with her mother and father and discovers it's not the fairytale land she was told about. There, she bumps into a mysterious man in a white robe that seems to always save her in her most dire situations...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Lasting Impression

A fat orange sun shone brightly on the high seas as the _Siren's Call_ glided through the dark, murky sea water, a proud ship that sailed under a French flag. A young woman stood at the prow of the ship, leaning against the railing. She was dressed in a pale blue coat, a white ruffled scarf protecting her neck from the bitter wind of fall. Blond curls fell around her dainty face, blue eyes gleaming from under dark brows. She watched the landmass before the ship come steadily closer, growing in immense size. The girl could hardly contain her excitement at seeing the new world, even from this far away, that she leaned over the railing more, her wide eyes enlarging with excitement.

"Angelique!" a man shouted.

Startled, she jerked back and turned around, clasping her hands innocently at her stomach.

"Yes, papa?" She asked, addressing the man in dark brown that approached her.

Her father was in his late forties, with thinning brown hair covered by a powdered wig and a gray beard to match. He stood before her now, two heads taller than the thin girl. He placed his hands on his hips.

"What have I told you about leaning on the railings?" He said sternly, his French accent thick.

Angelique twirled a curl around her fingers as she glanced down at the wooden planks at her feet.

"To not to…" She said softly, knowing she was in trouble.

The old man studied her a moment, then his face softened.

"Ah, come here. I cannot be mad at you," He said, opening his arms wide to offer an embrace.

She eagerly bounded up into her father's arms and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, grinning. He patted her shoulders before they pulled apart again.

"I only worry, Angelique," he explained, "You have only just turned seventeen, and still haven't married. There are many desperate young men in this new world that would take full advantage of such a pretty, unspoken-for young woman," he said, tousling her curls, "Not to mention those savages in the wild parts of the land."

Angelique shuddered. She'd always been taught that the natives of this new land were a race to be feared. Nomadic and primitive, they were still dangerous, as they learned quickly. Dark skinned people with a taste for anything that can be ripped apart, and particularly liked young women, married or not. They had no concept of marriage, and probably no religion.

She nodded her understanding and he smiled.

"Now, remember; stay near me and your mother when we dock. The ports are plenty big and full of people this time of year coming in to trade to get ready for winter."

Angelique nodded, eager, but then again, not so eager, to see this strange land. Her and her father stood side by side at the rail, watching as the docks came into view. After nearly an hour, they were finally able to leave the ship. Angelique bounded down the ramp with more energy that when she had first gone up this long slant of wood. The docks were heavily crowded with people. Soldiers from Britain, dock workers, merchants, vendors, and shoppers.

Angelique glanced around, bewildered and excited by the new world that rolled out before her eyes. Everything was in dull shades of green and brown, with an occasional flash of blue or red, but it was far more exciting to behold than Paris or London. The young French woman spun around, trying to look at everything.

She didn't notice that she had wandered away from the ship, and neither did her family. Her pale blue coat and tiny figure was completely blotted out by the large dock workers dressed in brown. Angelique's wide blue eyes drank in every building, every sign, every wagon and stall, person and animal. An excited smile spread across her pale pink lips as she meandered through the crowd. She was so lost in her own excitement that she didn't notice the trio of British soldiers that had sauntered up behind her. She had wandered down an alley between two shops, where an old woman was selling quilts.

"What's a pretty girl doing out here by herself?" One man chuckled.

Angelique whirled around, blond curls flying.

The three men had her cornered, and the old woman didn't seem intent on helping.

"I-I only just arrived," She said quickly, "My papa is probably looking for me…"

Angelique inwardly cursed her quavering voice and its low volume.

One man gave a nasty grin, baring his tobacco-yellowed teeth.

"Your father, eh? Where might he be?" He asked, testing her fib.

"C-close…" She said, taking a step back.

As she moved back, they took long strides forward. Angelique glanced helplessly at the old woman. The crone still hadn't moved her dark hands from the knitting needles on her lap.

Angelique swallowed hard as her eyes darted back to the red coats. They were much too close now. The French girl wrung her left sleeve nervously, retreating a little more hurriedly now, though she was already trapped, as the alley was blocked by a pile of wood and a row of storage barrels filled with whiskey.

"Going somewhere, girly?" one sneered, reaching for her.

Angelique shrieked as she was yanked forward, hands reaching for her coat buttons.

One man suddenly grunted in pain just as they pulled her coat open, ripping her ruffled ascot. Silence fell in the alley as everyone froze. One man, who had made the noise, looked stunned, and then fell face first into the cobblestones. A long knitting needle stuck out of his back, a large puddle of blood seeping through the thick red fabric of his coat. All eyes looked behind him, to the old woman. The 'old woman' was now standing, her hunched, trembling demeanor gone. One arm was extended from under her shawl, showing a dark, muscular arm in a white sleeve and decorative armbands.

The other two snapped out of their daze, shoving Angelique to the ground. She gave a pained yelp as her arm scraped the rough ground. The British soldiers leveled their bayonets with the stranger's gut, ready to attack. The 'old lady' grasped her shawl and skirt, ripping them off in one fluid movement. The figure underneath wasn't old, and it _definitely_ wasn't a woman.

A rather muscular man stood in the old woman's place, wearing a long white coat, a hood hiding most of his face. His other clothes were dark, and seemingly made of animal skins. The man pulled a strange-looking tomahawk from his belt and a hunting knife seemed to appear in his other hand. The two soldiers blanched visibly at the sight of him, and Angelique wondered if they knew him.

One man charged forward, thrusting his bayonet at the man in white. The white-clad man easily batted it aside with the blade of his tomahawk. He turned on the ball of his foot and brought his hunting knife around, to the British man's unguarded neck. Angelique screeched and covered her eyes as she heard the wet sound of gore splattering the cobblestones. Angelique heard a few more clangs of metal on metal before the muffled thud of a heavy body hitting the ground.

The young woman was sobbing into her balled fists now, afraid of what she'd see when she opened her eyes. Quiet footsteps approached her, and her heart began to pound harder. Was the assassin in white coming for her now? Had she become a loose end for what she saw, and he was now going to kill her?

Her slight frame shook in terror as she sobbed harder, scared for her life. But then the footsteps stopped before her, replaced by a short rustling of stiff fabric. A warm, callused hand rested on her elbow.

"Are you all right?" A soft, accented voice asked.

Angelique looked up, peeing at the man from under her lashes. The man's skin was dark, and his eyes were coal black, making the light in them shine like stars. His features were soft and wide, but he had high, sharp cheekbones, giving him an exotic appearance. 'This must be one of the natives I was told about,' the French teen realized.

Angelique knew that she should have done something. Punched him, run away, scream, _anything_. But she was too entranced by his dark, exotic looks and clothes, the rich voice with an unrecognizable accent. Dumbly, she nodded slightly, sniffling. The man's dark eyes moved from her tearstained face to the splotchy scrape along her arm, where here sleeve had ripped. Gingerly, he rotated her arm so that the light was shining on the wound. Then he pulled out a long strip of cloth from a pouch on his belt and started to wrap her arm.

She watched him as he did, her wide blue eyes flicking between his face and his hands. Angelique began to wonder why the Europeans called these natives 'savages.' If this man was an example of his kind, then they had been poorly labeled. She wondered if all of his kind were this gentle and kind. In addition to being as deadly as an entire pack of wolves.

"I am no healer," Said the man, interrupting her thoughts, "The wound will need to be washed and properly dressed."

He tied a tight not in the fabric and she winced as the bandage pressed painfully against her scrape.

"Hunter's hands," he explained apologetically.

The man stood and looked out to the mouth of the alley, before returning his attention to Angelique.

"I can escort you back to your parents, if you'd like," He offered quietly, extending his hand towards her.

Angelique hesitated, unsure. But then she reached up and grasped his hand before she really thought about what she was doing. The dark man pulled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her protectively, pulling her against his side. Angelique was secretly glad for his warmth and strong arm as she shook like a leaf at his side. Her brilliant eyes took in the gory sight of the alley. She turned away, burying her face in the man's side. The man led her from the alley and back into the throng of life. He navigated her between stalls, warily watching passing red coats. She pointed him in the general direction of where she believed her family's ship had docked.

As they walked, she couldn't help but notice that this strange man smelled of pine trees and rain. Angelique leaned against him, small compared to his muscular body and bulky gear. As they walked, she leaned her head against shoulder, still shivering.

Eventually, they managed to find her parents. Her father had come running to her and gathered her in his arms, calling her by her pet name as a child, "Minou." The man in white stood back silently, a bit uncomfortable. Angelique's father looked up at the man, about to explode on him. Angelique immediately leapt to the stranger's defense.

"Papa, this man saved me from a couple of men…they had my cornered and…." She started, before her eyes started to tear up again.

The old man's eyes softened and he nodded his thanks to the stranger.

"If there's anything I can do for you, Monsieur…" He started, but the stranger only shook his head.

"I need nothing," he said, turning and walking away.

Angelique broke free of her father's arms and rushed forward.

"Wait! What's your name?" She called, "I'm Angelique!"

The man in white paused a moment and glanced back over his shoulder, though she could no longer see his eyes for the fabric of the hood.

"You can just call me Connor."

And then he vanished into a wave of people.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Another Coincidence

Angelique stared out into the woods from the safety of her porch. Snow blanketed the hills and fields, naked trees standing lonely and cold. The land looked bleak in its winter skin, and the woods were dark and seemed barren of all life. Angelique shivered, pulling her shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders.

It had been two months since she last saw the white-hooded man, Connor. Angelique had taken ever chance she could to accompany her parents to town, hoping to see him again, even if to catch a glimpse of the tail of his white coat disappearing around a corner. And each time, she had been met with severe disappointment. There had been no sign of Connor since he'd rescued her from the dreadful incident in the alley. The thought of never seeing him again rather depressed the French girl, for she had taken an instant liking to her mysterious savior.

Angelique turned her head as the coach pulled around the side of the house, the driver shouting French commands to the pair of gray horses. Angelique hurried down the steps through the thick white snow and got into the carriage, ignoring the offered hand of the coach driver. They were soon off with an impatient word from Angelique. As they grew closer, a familiar excitement welled up in her chest. Angelique could hardly sit still on the way into Boston.

After an hour's ride, the coach rolled to a jolting stop. Angelique stepped out quickly, already overwhelmed by the smells of sweat, sea, and tanned leather. She glanced around, a basket on one arm as she took the arm of a servant that had accompanied her. Snow had been cleared from the streets, though it had returned from the gutters as a cold, wet slush.

She had come to buy more yarn for her mother's crocheting, and Angelique had thought of looking for that alley again. But she knew it was pointless, as the man was likely never to go near the place again. She hadn't seen a sign of the strange native man in all this time, so she may as well give up looking for him. But despite this, the French girl remained for several more hours, denying profusely to herself that she was still hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Angelique had finally convinced herself to just go home and forget all about her silly little daydreams about the man, and was heading back to the coach when something caught her eye. She glanced up onto a dark roof and saw the silhouette of a man's figure crouched there. The projections on his back suggested a bow and quiver, and in relatively smooth shape for such primitive weapons. Angelique's heart beat faster as she watched the figure scurry across the roof, jump down onto a stack of crates, and disappear into a narrow, crowded street. Before she realized what she was doing, she had let go of her servant's arm and followed the man. The further they got, the less people she saw. She could see him clearly now, with his white coat and blue sash, his primitive weapons strapped on to his shoulders and a pair of rugged pistols low on the back of his waist. Angelique's heart pounded in her chest, threatening to explode form her ribcage as if shot from a cannon.

The native didn't seem to notice her tailing him. What was his name again? He had told her to call him Connor, didn't he? He seemed focused on the two men before him, both of whom were talking in hushed, frantic tones. They weren't aware of their silent pursuer, who now held a dagger in his hand, the same piece of metal that had killed the soldiers who'd attacked Angelique. As Connors steps quickened, Angelique paused. She watched as time seemed to slow when one man turned to glance over his shoulder. Connor darted to the right, putting a boot up on a crate. Angelique heard the man call for guards as Connor dashed up a tower of wooden boxes. They tried to run, but one man caught his boot in a loos cobblestone, and he stumbled. That was all Connor needed as he launched into the air. He descended on the man, driving the dagger into his victim's back. The finely dressed man fell back onto the street again with a sickening thud. Guards swarmed from between the dark buildings, bayonets ready. Connor seemed unconcerned as he started to weave between them, his dagger and tomahawk flashing with a deadly light.

Angelique was transfixed, watching the massacre as if it weren't even really happening. Strings of bloody pearls flew through the air, only to shatter against stone and wood and bodies. As she looked on, watching this deadly display, she found that she didn't feel afraid. She didn't feel anything. Not remorse for the fallen, not fear of the killer, not disgust for the deed. Nothing.

Only two of the ten guards stood now, the other noble having fled. They held their rifles ready, bayonets glinting as they edged around Connor, who showed not a single one of his intentions, remaining stalk-still. The soldiers shifted uneasily, their eyes constantly changing focus, trying to determine his next move. Connor's body and face betrayed nothing.

Then he suddenly sprang at one man, shoving the bayonet away with his thigh, before the blade of the tomahawk bit into the Red Coat's neck. The other saw his chance and charged, but Connor was faster. He twisted out of the way of the muzzleloader, sinking the axe into the man's back. Connor turned and flung the man against a set of stairs. The man's head cracked against it and he went still. Connor's stance slackened ever so slightly as he looked around, convinced that the threat had passed for the moment.

When he turned towards Angelique, the Mohawk stiffened when he spotted the young girl standing there, watching him with a blank face. They stared at each other a long while, still and silent like a pair of statues.

Eventually, Angelique's eyes wandered to the dead men around the native's feet, the pool of blood spreading quickly and seeping into the cracks in the stones.

"Why did you kill that man?" She asked softly in a monotone.

"For the same reason I killed the men that attacked you," Connor answered quietly, "They were evil and had hurt many people," He stared at her for a moment, "Are you frightened?"

Angelique raised her eyes to his, to find that he was stalking towards her. She took a step back involuntarily when he was within arm's reach of her. He paused in his step.

"Are you frightened?" He asked again, more demanding.

Angelique parted her lips and murmured a soft, "No."

Connor's black eyes narrowed as they bore down into her sky blue pair.

"Two months ago, you'd have had a different answer."

"Two months ago, I would have been dead were it not for you," She countered. Angelique squared her shoulders and raised her chin, "I know you won't hurt me."

The light in the native's eyes c hanged to a humorous one, "Awfully brave for a little girl."

"I'm not little," She protested with some indignation, "I'm just…not as tall as other girls my age."

Angelique saw his eyebrows quirk upwards in amusement.

"You just saw me kill several soldiers and you're more worried about your height?"

Angelique's cheeks burned hot with a blush. This man did have a point. Here she was, surrounded by death and gore, and it was her height that affected her most. Then he surprised her by extending his elbow to her.

"I'll escort you back. Night is falling quickly and it isn't safe even in the city when it's dark."

Blushing profusely, she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, letting him lead her back to the center of town. As they walked, she glanced at him repeatedly from her peripheral vision. He seemed completely unaffected by his previous actions, walking calmly and with a completely blank face. She glanced back down at the cobblestones under feet.

"So…Connor…" She started to say, when she felt him stop, pulling her to a halt.

A bit startled, Angelique glanced at him and his eyes narrowed on something in the street. The girl turned to follow his gaze and saw a man in the street, dressed rather smartly. He wore a long brown coat and a lighter brown vest, with breeches the same shade as his coat. His short blond hair was slicked back and he had an impossibly arrogant look to him. Angelique's bright blue eyes flicked back to Connor.

"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

Connor was silent for some time, before he answered, "Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He ushered her into the shade of a closed up shop. Angelique started to protest, but he was already gone, on the trail of the man in brown. Angelique peeked around the post and saw Connor's white coat vanish around a corner. There was no sign of the other man, so she assumed that Connor was following him.

The sky was already darkening as she bit her lip, not feeling comfortable here by herself. He had only just left, but already, she felt as if she'd been here for hours, waiting. What if he wasn't coming back? What if he forgot she was there, waiting for him? What if the man killed him and she ended up staying here for quite some time? Or what if he just simply wasn't going to come back for her at all? Anger and fear welled up in her chest, and she was unaware at first that she'd taken several steps into the street, away from where he'd made her wait. She swallowed a lump of fear in her throat, and forced herself to keep going, towards the alley he'd disappeared into. She saw the tail end of his coat disappearing around another corner and she broke into a run. Angelique passed the narrow space between houses she'd seen him go through, and went on to the next, squirming her way in between the two buildings. The opening was narrow, but she could fit if she let all of the air out of her lungs. She worked quickly to get through, not minding at all that two of the buttons on her blouse popped off from being scraped against the wall. The rough brings snagged at her curls, but she kept moving, even as a few of the golden strands fell in her face. She finally made it to the end of the alley and peeked out into the back streets that were filled with animals and cargo from ships. The man in the brown coat seemed unaware of his pursuers as he hurried across and made his way down the winding street. Connor soon followed, keeping to groups of people and the edges of buildings, always hidden in shadow.

Summoning her courage, Angelique slid out of the narrow space and headed off to the other side of the street, trying to keep Connor from noticing her. She straightened herself as best she could, brushing her curls back out of her face. Connor didn't seem to see her, and he was completely focused on his target. Angelique wet her dry lips, trying to watch Connor and where she was going at the same time. At one point, he stopped and glanced back, and she had to duck behind a building. She wasn't quite sure why she was hiding from him, but she knew that she couldn't be discovered now. After a moment, she peeked around the corner, just enough so that her eye was visible. Connor glanced around a moment, before he turned back again and continued following his target. Angelique let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Before she could step out of the shadows, however, a sound caught her attention. She turned when she heard barking, and she spotted a large gray hound not far away, his ears plastered back and his tail low. His black lip curled back to reveal his yellowing teeth and he let out a ferocious growl. Angelique's eyes went wide and her heart began to hammer in her chest. She'd always been afraid of dogs, and this dog could sense her fear. She grasped at her sides, looking for any kind of a weapon to defend herself with. Before she had a chance to grab anything, the dog charged her, saliva flying from its jaws as they snapped open to sink into her soft flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Inner Strengths

Angelique reacted before she was even able to muster a scream. The dog had charged her, and everything seemed to slow. The dog had taken to the air and she could see the murderous intent in the dog's eyes. Her knees finally obeyed her will and she fell to the ground, rolling away as the dog smacked into the wall she'd backed up against. She heard the heavy thud as it fell to the ground, crying out in pain. She'd have felt bad for the poor thing, had it not just tried to rip her throat out. Angelique hurried to her feet and dashed down the street, the hound hot on her heels. There had to be some way to get away from the beast.

As her mind reeled frantically and her slender legs pumped, she saw a pile of boxes, leading up to the roof. Maybe, just maybe, she could get away from the hound that way! And even if she didn't, the hound may be stopped by the horses and carriages that roamed in the streets. Taking a chance, she cut across the street, startling a horse drawing a wagon. The man shouted at her as the horse reared, but she wasn't listening. With as much strength as she could muster, she sprung up on the first crate and scrambled over the second, forcing herself to keep climbing even though she felt her shins get scraped by the rough wood. Behind her, the dog had managed to get up on the first crate and its salivating jaws closed around the hem of her dress. Desperate, Angelique pulled against its teeth as the beast backpedaled, attempting to bring her down with it.

A loud ripping noise filled the air as the fabric of her dress separated, sending the dog reeling back with a huge strip of the soft gray fabric. Angelique took her chance and scrambled up onto the roof, not caring what manner of person saw her bloomers. Once on the roof and a fair distance from the roof, she looked down at her garb to see how bad the damage was. A groan escaped her. It was ruined. The dress and ripped up to about her knees, and the ends were dirtied anyway from the narrow alley she'd squeezed through. Her long bloomers peeked out from under, about half way down her calves. Agitated, she gripped the fabric in her hands and ripped those up as well. If she was going to have to wear a ruined dress, she didn't want anyone to see the majority of her bloomers. The result left most of her legs bared, showing off her stockings and her pale legs and reddened, scraped knees. Exasperated, she made her way uneasily along the roof and peeked over the side.

The dog had gone, unhappy that it'd lost its prey, but it made off with her ruined skirts in its jaws as a trophy. Angelique groaned and tried to look around for Connor. He was at the end of the street now, and she was fixing to lose him. Gathering what courage she had left, she started to make her way along the roof top and soon eased into a jog. When she reached the edge, she didn't stop, even though her body screamed at her to do so. She launched herself over the edge, reaching for the next rooftop. She misjudged the distance and her midsection slammed into the edge, causing her to lose her breath. The blond scrambled for the shingles, stopping her slow slide off. With some difficulty, she managed to get back up onto the roof, scraping her knees even further. Angelique couldn't afford herself the opportunity to stop and rest, to get her breath back. She had to catch up to the man in white.

Struggling back up, she broke into a dead run, this time easily clearing the next roof top, and the next. She made it to the end of the street and she had to dig her heeled shoes into the shingles to stop. She doubled over, resting her hands on her knees, panting hard. However this man did it, he must have done it for quite some time if he didn't get as tired as she did by the end of it.

Upon glancing up, she spotted Connor. He had just melted into a crowd when she saw the man in brown turn. Connor hadn't been fast enough this time and the man spotted him.

"Guards! Guards, he's there!" the man shouted, pointing.

Red Coats turned from their posts and began to immediately rush to the man's aid. Connor dropped into a defensive stance, but there were more guards than last time, now that they were in the open. Angelique swore colorfully under her breath, despite what she'd always been taught. She looked around for something, anything, that she could do to help. She saw an apple vendor abandon his cart as the fight started to take place. The blond scrambled over the edge of the building, dropping ungracefully onto the pile of crates, nearly falling off of those. She got to her feet and ran over to the vendor's cart, grabbing an armful of apples. She ran to the side of the street, picked an apple, and hurled it with all of her might.

The fruit smacked into the side of a guard's head, stunning him momentarily. Without giving him a chance to recover, she pelted the guards with apples, sometimes striking their gun, other times a joint, or their heads, or knock off a hat. Five angry guards turned to her. Not enough to make much of a difference in Connor's fight, but it was something. But now she needed them to come after her.

"You damned Red Coats with your damned bloody war!" She shouted, shaking her fists emphatically, "I spit on you!" She called, and spat as hard as she could at the nearest guard, "France spits on you!" She spat again.

"Get after her!" One red coat shouted, before charging after her.

The other four followed, as Angelique had hoped. Now she needed to lose them. She turned on her heel and fled down the back street. As she ran, her only thought was, _now what?_

Her legs were already weary from her rooftop escapade, so she didn't think she'd be able to outrun these men. But perhaps she could outthink them. At the last possible second, she out darted down an alley. Not thinking to look behind her, she jumped over a crate and swung around another corner, heading in the opposite direction this time. She could hear the guards clattering noisily behind her, so she knew they were still following. She had to get them as far away as possible and lose them.

Forcing herself to keep going despite her aches and weariness, she dashed down another alley and saw her chance to get up on the rooftops. She scrambled up a stack of barrels, knocking them over. Angelique managed to clamber into a window just as they charged down the alley, shouting. She didn't think they saw her, so she might be able to slip away. Glancing around, she didn't see anyone on the second floor, so she grabbed a dress that had been laid out on the bed and crept down the stairs. No one was in the family room, so she quietly made her way towards the front door. But just as she was about to reach for the door handle, someone pounded on it from the outside.

"Open up in the name of the king!" A voice shouted.

"Coming, I'm coming!" A woman called from what Angelique assumed was the kitchen.

_Of course it wouldn't be easy!_ Silently cursing, she dashed straight back up the stairs, trying to be quiet as the woman breezed past where she had just been. Angelique retreated into a bedroom, closing and locking the door. She turned, trying to find a way out that didn't involve breaking any bones in her legs.

She threw a window open and glanced down. It was only two stories to the ground, and there was a hay bale nearby. Maybe if she could jump far enough…she could make it into the hay. Down below, the French girl could hear the soldiers talking, and they sounded agitating. Biting her lip, she slung the stolen dress over her shoulder and climbed into the windowsill. She crouched there, gripping the sides of the window, doubting herself and trying to come up with a reason why she shouldn't, aside from her ankles. But then she heard the marching of boots up the stairs, and she felt panic taking over. Without a second thought, she dove from the window, launching as hard as she could. She felt as if time was slowed, but at the same time, everything was happening too fast. She felt her feet leave the window, leaving her in the open air to fall. She felt the wind rush past her face, before the weightlessness set into her stomach and she began to fall.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Gratitude

Angelique watched, with a growing sense of horror, as the ground rushed up to meet her, the hay bale seeming very far away. For an instant, fear clutched at her heart that she may not make the bale and fall to the cobblestones far below, and break every bone in her body. Her panic became unmanageable, and she flailed as the fear spread throughout, spreading her arms wide and kicking her legs in a desperate attempt to rewind this moment, to keep intact.

And then the scratchy straw enfolded her in its mass, sending her almost to the very bottom of the cart. Angelique fell still, stunned and winded from the initial impact of the fall. For some time, she did not move, even after the convoy of redcoats had passed. Shakily, she placed her arms under her and pushed herself up, poking her head out of the hay. She had made it. A goofy grin spread across her soft pink lips at the realization. _She had made it!_

The blond just about jumped out of the hay and danced for joy, but she had to force herself to think critically again. Her clothes were in tatters, she'd stolen a dress, she was hiding in a hay bale. What was she to do now? Trying to bring her mind back into herself, she stripped in the hay and pulled on the stolen dress, leaving the tattered remains behind as she crawled out of the wagon, picking the hay from her person. Angelique glanced about, trying to think about what to do next.

She had to find Connor.

Despite the protest from her legs, she started to pump them as she ran out into the street, weaving between pedestrians, wagons, and vendors. She didn't dare call out his name. She'd seen the wanted posters about town. They would know where he was if he responded, and they would no doubt throw her in jail with him if they believed she as helping him.

Pushing aside all her fears, Angelique began to search frantically for the white-robed man. It felt like hours before she finally lost all her energy and was forced to find some kind of a shelter to rest. Angelique found a nice, worn post near a general store, and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. A glance around her told her that the Mohawk was nowhere near. She chewed her lip, trying to think of what she was going to do. She had never been out on her own, this was the first time she'd stolen, insulted someone which led to a chase, she found herself on the rooftops, and jumped from a two story window into a wagon of hay that she shouldn't have been able to reach. Today was definitely not what she thought it would be when she'd started to look for the native.

A rough hand suddenly grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her almost painfully backwards. She started to give a startled shriek, but another hand covered her mouth, dragging her back into the shadows of the alley. Before she could think, she drove the heel of her boot into the offender's big toe, and slammed her elbow against his ribs.

"OUCH!" An alarmed voice hissed, "Take it easy!"

Angelique paused at the strange accent and soft tone. She raised her eyes and managed to swivel her head around to face a dark man in a white hood. He did _not_ look happy.

"Sorry…." She mumbled through his hand. He removed it, "I panicked…I have a tendency to do that when you _sneak up behind me and drag me into an alley_!"

"I might have tried calling your name, had you been _listening the first fifteen times!_" Connor whispered back, "And what were you thinking? I told you to wait for me!"

"Well, you can hardly blame me for being scared to be left alone in the dark with a bunch of strange men! Besides, I didn't get hurt! Well…except for my knees, of course, but that's not the point!"

Connor gave a sigh, "Let me see."

She looked a bit horrified at the idea of letting him see her legs. Before she could stop him, he was already kneeling in front of her and lifted the front of her dress to examine her knees. She clutched the front of her skirts.

"Are you mad!" She snarled, "Let go immediately!"

"Will you stop that? Do you want your knees to get infected?" Connor scolded.

Angelique gave up and stopped complaining, but she didn't let him raise her petticoats any higher than an inch above her knees. She watched him investigate the scraps, taking a scrap of cloth and wiping away the blood the dripped down her smooth legs. He paused more than once to touch a spot around the scrapes, and at one point, she let out a giggle.

"Stop that! It tickles!"

An amused smile touched the Mohawk's dark lips, "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

He removed a few strips of gauze from his belt and wrapped her knees to keep them from bleeding.

"You'll need to wash the wounds properly when you get home," he said in his soft monotone.

Angelique nodded and leaned against the bricks. The Assassin stood and looked at her again, his black eyes drilling into hers.

"You realize what you did was incredibly stupid, don't you?" he asked.

The blond's cheeks turned pink, "I know…"

"Then why do it?"

Angelique gave a vague shrug, her eyes on the stones beneath her feet, "I guess it was because I owed you a debt. You saved me, so I thought I'd try to help out…it was scarier than I thought it would be."

To her surprise, Connor smiled.

"It tends to be that way when you do it for the first time. And I am grateful for your help."

Angelique's cheeks darkened further, "I didn't make much of a difference…only five out of a bunch."

He extended his arm towards her, "It was more than enough. Let me take you home now."

Biting her lip, she took his hand and walked with him back out onto the street, keeping close to buildings and stalls. At one point, she glanced over at the man in white, only to find him seemingly deep in thought. Hoping he wouldn't notice, she leaned her head over on his strong arm, closing her eyes.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when Angelique woke, she was in Connor's arms as he carried her down the trail leading up to her family manor. Her head rested against his shoulder, her forehead nestled under his jaw. He was incredibly warm and smelled wonderful, unlike the men she'd passed in the docks, but much more pleasant than the toilet water her father used.

"This is the farthest I can take you," Connor said softly, shaking her shoulder a little bit.

Angelique raised her head sleepily and glanced up at the far off house, shrouded by dark trees. It wasn't very far, but any closer and Connor might have been spotted. Angelique nodded her understanding. The Mohawk set her on her feet, keeping a hand on her arm to steady her, and she turned to him.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"Get some rest," He said, before removing his hand and disappearing into the trees.

Dreamily, she stumbled up to the house. She didn't seem to notice her mother babbling at her about being out late and the awful dress she was wearing, drifting past the servants and making her way up the stairs. She changed out of the stolen dress, putting on a nightgown before sliding into her bed, almost as if in a trance. She smiled as her eyes closed, Connor's touch on her arm still warm, his scent still fresh in her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry, guys. I was busy all week, with it being Thanksgiving Break and all. I got dragged all over creation, so I didn't really have much of a chance to update. Anywho, hope this makes up for it!

Chapter 5: Guided Feet

It was still several hours before dawn when Angelique woke with a start. She sat up in bed, looking around her darkened bedroom with wide eyes. What had awakened her? The blond placed a hand on her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, when she heard it again. A door slamming downstairs, a murmur of deep voices. Curious, she got out of bed and tied on a thin lace robe over her modest nightgown, grabbing a lantern from the nightstand. Thinking better of it, she put it back on the stand before moving to the door. She cracked it open, listening for a moment. It sounded like a group of men talking as quietly as possible, but not quite as silently as they'd hoped. The blond slipped out of her door, closing it almost completely, in case she needed to dash back inside. She gathered her skirts around her legs and crept along the hall and peeked around the corner, down the stairs. The lanterns were lit in the hall leading to her father's study, so there were definitely some late night visitors.

Gathering her courage, Angelique tiptoed down the stairs, cringing at how the cold wood felt against the pads of her feet. Once she reached the landing, the blond made a quick glance down the hall to make sure that no one was about, before dashing across the main room to the hallway. She crept up to the door of the study and pressed her ear to it. She couldn't really hear what they were saying, but by the urgency in their voices, she could tell it was something important. Taking a deep breath to calm her suddenly jittery nerves, she slowly turned the brass knob and edged the door open a bit.

"…the man's a menace! He's already killed Lord Bretton and just about damn near killed Tristan!" One man snarled.

"Calm yourself, Tyron," Angelique heard her father say, "He doesn't know about the rest of us yet. We still have time to find out who he is and where he's been hiding."

"Time?" Someone spat, "We don't know how much time we have, and we shouldn't count on optimists like you to run anything!"

"Don't fret so much, Charles. It's unbecoming of you," a third man said, his voice calm and rather soothing to listen to, "Marc has done far more than you think. Have some patience. It will be some time before he's able to locate the Assassin."

"Don't fret?" The man called Charles asked incredulously, "He's already killed several of us! It won't be long before he finds the head of the operation!"

Marc casually asserted, "As it happens, I've had a stroke of luck. It seems my daughter has already had a run-in with him. Saw him myself, he escorted my daughter back after an unfortunate incident with some British troops."

The room fell silent a moment, as if they didn't believe him. Angelique didn't dare move or take a breath for fear that they would hear her in the silence.

"This is awfully convenient," The man with the soothing voice said, "Why weren't we informed when it happened?"

"I didn't think it was the man we were looking for. I had, after all, only just arrived in this country when it happened."

"I see…keep looking. He may yet turn up again."

Biting her lip, Angelique eased away from the door. She heard their footsteps and she darted into the adjoining kitchen, which was completely dark. The blond hated the dark, but she would have to brave it if she were to find out what these men wanted with her savior.

She heard them leave the study, murmuring. Angelique couldn't make out what they were saying, but she heard their footsteps moving into the kitchen.

"How about some wine, gentleman?" Marc offered as he led the way into the dark room.

Cursing her horrible luck and their timing, Angelique scrambled to find a different place to hide. She stuffed herself into a large cabinet and pulled the door closed as some lanterns were lit. Angelique pulled her legs up against her chest and cracked the door open to watch.

Over the course of an hour, she didn't hear anything else worthy of note, other than the momentary mention of killing Connor. Eventually, she decided it was time for her to get out. They didn't seem like they would be leaving any time soon. She would have to find some way to sneak out without being noticed. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open a bit more and took a peek. They were all gathered around the table, some sitting, some standing. Cursing silently, she shut the door again and felt around the cupboard. It was empty, and it was all interconnected as it circled the room. It was still mostly empty, since some of their luggage hadn't yet made it to the house, and they still needed to buy some other necessities, but they weren't set up or in any position to make large orders yet. She could hopefully crawl around them and get out through the dining room. Then she had to run away, find some way to get the word to Connor that there were men coming after him. Taking a deep breath, she started to move slowly through the narrow tunnel. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but it was really hard to the first time she smacked her head against a low beam. It was a soft thump, and she was lucky enough to have stopped herself from crying out or even mumbling 'ouch', but she heard the activity quiet outside a bit.

"What was that?" She heard the man called Haytham ask.

"Probably the cat again," Marc said dismissively, "One of my minou's silly little critters. Pay it no mind."

They went back to conversing, much to Angelique's relief. She tried to keep her head low this time, moving slowly to get to the end of the cabinet.

Once there, Angelique opened another little door and peeked out. She was close to the dining room, but she'd have to find some way to get there without being seen. Angelique gathered herself, watching for a chance to make her dash into the other room. They were all talking, but too many people were facing her way for her to make her move. Agitated, she tried to think of something. Angelique reached back and grabbed one of her hairpins she'd forgotten to take out before she'd gotten into bed, and opened the door a bit more. She hurled it as hard as she could across the room. The little piece of metal struck a pot, making a loud clang. All of the attending men whirled around in alarm, looking to see what had made the noise.

Angelique took her chance and slid out of the cabinet, making a beeline for the darkness of the dining room. She threw herself around the corner and dove into the dark space between two large decorative pots. She could hear the older men in the other room murmuring, trying to figure out what had made the noise. Deciding she was safe, Angelique crawled out and crept back up to her room.

Relieved, she just about sank to the floor. She wanted more than anything to accept her bed's warm invitation back into its sheets, but she had to tell Connor, and she was not going to wait until the next trip into town, which wasn't until next week at the very least. She didn't bother getting dressed; she didn't think about it. Angelique threw her window open and glanced down. It was too far from the ground and the outlying work on the walls were made of jagged stones. She could hopefully climb down, if she was careful. Taking a deep breath, she hiked up her skirts and slid out of the window. She found a perch with her left foot and held closely to the windowsill, lowering herself a bit. Once both of her bare feet were firmly rooted, she let go of the sill with one hand and found purchase in a nearby rock.

Angelique knew she was pressed for time, so she tried to hurry as best as she could without scraping herself. She was almost to the bottom when her hand slid on the slippery stonework and sliced her hand open. Angelique cried out and fell the rest of the way down. Luckily, it wasn't far, and the most damage she'd sustained was her cut hand and she'd banged up one of her already scraped up knees. Hissing between her teeth, she clutched her hand to her chest as she limped her way to town.

She hung back when she got to the edge of town, unsure of what to do. She had no idea where Connor was and she had no clue about how to go about finding him. She could ask around, but he was still a wanted man. Angelique didn't want to endanger him more than necessary, so she decided to go with what she'd had to do before; get on the rooftops. Cursing silently under her breath, she managed to find a way up using a cart and a few opened windows and a sign. She teetered on the edge of the roof and threw herself forward to avoid falling, further dirtying her favorite robe. Keeping her torn hand against her chest, Angelique started to hope across the roof tops, not caring about the dirt that collected on her bare feet and on the hem of her robe and nightdress. If Connor was anywhere, he had to be near the edges of town. He always seemed to be when she bumped into him, and he stayed close to the shadows where he could easily make an escape if he had to.

She searched for some time, but she hadn't caught a glimpse of him at all. In fact, all she'd done was attract attention from the guards patrolling from the rooftops. Cursing again for what seemed like the hundredth time in two days, she had to convince herself to start sprinting. She pumped her legs as hard as she could, ignoring the swelling in her knees and the protests from her already aching muscles. The blond hiked up her skirts, trying to keep from tripping.

Angelique reached the end of a long row of houses, and she could see a cart being drawn by two large draft horses coming down the road. It was filled with a bunch of old clothes that were being thrown away, scraps of clothing that were so threadbare that there was no saving it. She didn't wait to see if she could time it right. She took a few steps back, and then ran forward, launching herself off of the edge of the building. This time, she wasn't as afraid as she had been the first time she'd attempted this maneuver. She felt the old cloth cover her as she dove into the depths of the wagon, cushioning her landing. She lay still as the wagon kept going down the street. She could hear the guards shouting in confusion, trying to find where she'd gone. The wagon carried her farther and farther away, until she was certain it was safe to come out. Angelique swung herself out of the cart and dropped onto a dirt road. A glance around told her she'd been dropped in the middle of the woods. She waited too long, just to make sure the guards wouldn't find her. She wrapped her arms about herself, trembling a bit as the sounds of night animals came to her in the quiet night.

The blond tried to still herself and think. Connor was a native, so if he wasn't in the shadows of the town, he'd been in the forest somewhere. Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, she took a few steps down the path, glancing around. She wished desperately she'd gotten a knife from the kitchen, or stolen a cleaver from the butcher she'd passed in town. Even a musket would have done, even if it only had one shot. But anything was better than nothing. She shivered in the cold night, wishing she had a thick coat…and some shoes.

A howl cut through the air and made Angelique's hair stand on end. Her steps quickened as she turned onto a different trail. It wasn't very well worn, but there fresh wagon tracks, so there must have been a house or a small town this way…hopefully. Maybe even an abandoned little church would do, just something to wait out the night. Another howl echoed through the trees, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from, so she broke into a jog, crashing through the brush as more howls joined the first. Fear clutched at her as she picked up speed, tumbling over fallen trees and scrabbling through the brush. She could hear the skittering of paws on dead leaves and twigs, and more howls. She knew it was a pack of hungry wolves, and they could smell the blood on her hand and on the front of her gown. Frantic to get away, she hurried down the trail, not caring that she tore up her dress and robe, or got her hair tangled in the branches. Angelique got hung up a few times, but adrenaline pushed her forward, tearing holes in the dress.

She could hear them getting closer, but luck was on her side. A red brick manor came into view in the distance. It was hard to tell if it was inhabited because of the trees blocking her view, but she could hide in there if she could just run faster. She burst out onto a worn path and pumped her tired legs harder, trying to get up to the white veranda.

Finally, she threw herself against the heavy red door, pounding on it furiously, shouting frantically in English and French. She could hear the wolves behind her, circling just outside of the clearing. Angelique didn't dare glance back at them. Finally, someone opened the door. He was an older man with ebony skin and his hair looked like graying snakes. He was hunched, and had to walk with the aid of a cane. He looked at her with bleary eyes.

"Young lady, do you know what hour it is?" He asked, a bit irritated.

"Please, monsieur, there are wolves behind me!" she said, panic in her eyes.

He heard the howl and saw the blood on her hand and dress, and his own eyes widened a bit. He ushered her in and locked the door behind her.

"Come, sit by the fire. You must be freezing." He said, seeing that she wore only a thin nightgown and robe.

"M-merci…" She said with a shiver as he guided her into the main room where a roaring fire was lit.

"I'll return in a moment with some things to clean up your hand," He said, hobbling out of the room.

Angelique huddled close to the fire, pulling her thin lace robe around her tighter. Her hair had come loose from its normal updo she'd always put it in before going to bed, so that it didn't get tangled. Blond strands hung in her dirtied face, giving her a wild look as she glanced nervously around the mansion's living room. She wasn't sure how far she was from Boston, but she was quite sure she was pretty far away. She must have been so panicked that she didn't notice the distance she ran…or even in what direction.

She heard steps thundering down the stairs.

"Achilles? What's going on? Why are there wolves on the property? Who was at the door?" A voice demanded.

Angelique turned towards the voice. Past the archway leading into the foyer, she spotted Connor. He was only in a pair of sleeping breeches, which gave her a spectacular view of his sculpted torso, with its tan, taut skin over the tensed muscles that made up his structure. His shoulder-length black hair was loose and a bit messy, a pair of beads shining against his dark throat. His face captured her attention as he turned towards her, showing her his handsome, strong features. The sight of him without a shirt, in a just a pair of sleeping breeches, made her face flush red. It also made her a bit self-conscious. Here she was, in a thin, tattered night dress, which was wet with the melted snow and her hair was a mess, blood down her front and dirt smeared across her face.

Connor appeared surprised to see her as he crossed over to her, forgetting his sad state of undress.

"Angelique? What are you doing here? How did you…?"

"I-I…"

Before she could really find anything to say, she found herself throwing her arms around the native's neck, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the adrenaline wore off and the fear was all that remained. Connor was shocked and uncertain what to do, but he put his arms around her and patted her thin back, letting her sob.

When she recovered, Achilles returned to bandage her hand.

"Connor…I…I had to find you," she started, "My father was talking with some men tonight, men that want to hurt you…" She shifted uncomfortably as her hand stung with the salve that the older man put on it, "I heard them come in and got curious, because even in France, we never had late night visitors. They were talking in my father's study about a man that had killed some of their friends. I didn't know who they were talking about at first until he mentioned that the man they spoke of escorted me back the first day here. They could only have been speaking of you." She said as she looked into Connor's dark eyes.

She swallowed a little, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. Why was she so nervous? Just because he was in a state of undress and he didn't have a hood…and she was only in a thin nightgown…it didn't mean anything different.

Connor gave a nod, thinking for a moment as he looked her nightdress over.

"I would walk with you back so that they wouldn't notice your absence, but in your current state…someone might get suspicious when they do laundry in the morning."

"I…could throw it away?" she offered, "Bury it somewhere tomorrow?"

"That might work," Connor seemed to think, "We could play it off as you visiting a lover. It's not totally uncommon. I'm not sure how we can disguise the damage to the dress, but if it's discovered you disappeared in the night and returned, we could somehow stage it to look as if you snuck out for a rendezvous."  
"What about my hand?"  
"Simple enough. You fell."

"Oh...right," She mumbled, feeling stupid.

What was it about this man that made her so dumbfounded? The man was a puzzle wrapped in animal skins and the smell of pine trees.

"Can't…can't I stay here the night and you can take me back in the morning? I don't want to go back out there…" She said, her voice small as her large blue eyes darted nervously towards the window, out into the dark trees.

Connor and Achilles glanced at each other. They seemed to share some kind of a thought between them through a simple look before they turned their attention back to her.

"You may stay here for the night. Connor will return with you to your manor before the light of dawn."

Angelique was on her feet and she threw her arms around the old man.

"Thank you so much, Monsieur! I'm so sorry to have caused such trouble for you, but I promise I'll make it up to you somehow!"  
"All right, enough of that…" he said after a moment, pushing her back by her shoulders and clearing his throat, "I suggest you get some rest, my dear. You have quite the trek ahead of you in the morning."

Angelique nodded and sat back down as Connor and Achilles moved into the other room.

"I don't know where you found this young woman, but you must be careful," Achilles said in a low voice, "She's utterly loyal to you, but while she thinks she's doing good, she might end up bringing harm to you. Watch her carefully."

"She could be a great help to us if we can train her to spy better," Connor argued softly, "The fact that she somehow made it here, without any guidance or any knowing of our whereabouts, means that she might have been meant to help us. And besides that, she did say she wanted to pay me back. This is the safest job for her. If her father _is_ a Templar, he'll do his best to spare her of the consequences if she's caught. I've seen how attached to her he is."

Achilles gave a tired sigh, "I hope you know what you're doing, boy. If something happens to her, you know that her blood will be on your hands."

"I know, " Connor said softly, glancing back through the doorway.

Angelique had fallen asleep in the chair, her head tucked against her shoulder as the firelight played over her fair skin. Connor felt his heart soften at the sight. The poor girl had been through more trouble than what a woman would normally put herself through, just to help him as he helped her. Connor moved into the room, picking up a small quilt, and draped it over the French girl. She mumbled softly in her sleep and snuggled a bit under the blanket. Connor gave a sigh and pushed a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure how this would work out, but he hoped that it wouldn't cause any grief on Angelique's part. He sat down in the chair opposite of her and watched the light change outside the window.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: I am sooooo sorry, you guys! I know you guys have been asking for an update, but I've been busy. Between my huge English project (The one my ENTIRE grade is hinging on) and computer troubles, I haven't been able to get around to it. I'm so sorry that it's so short. :( This is all the time I had for it.

Chapter 6: The Request

Angelique was shaken from her deep, cramped sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she looked up to see an armed and dressed Connor.  
"Come, we should get you home," He said softly, taking her by the arm and helping her to her feet.  
Almost dreamily, she complied and let him pull her up. The Assassin handed her a pair of slightly scuffed, black boots.  
"They're the smallest we have, but they may still be to big. I'm sorry if they are," Connor apologized in his soft, deep tone.  
Angelique only nodded sleepily, stepping into the leather. Once they were secure on her feet, Connor led her outside. She leaned against his arm as they walked through the trees, still yawning.  
"How long until we get there?" She asked softly.  
"It'll be a little while," He glanced at her and couldn't help the small smile that came to his dark lips, "Are you still asleep?"  
"A little..." she said dreamily.  
Connor paused and pulled her arms over his shoulders, swinging her up onto his back. Her dress rode up some, constricted by his wide back, and he gripped under her knees.  
"Pardon," He said sheepishly.  
Angelique only shook her head, "It's fine...I don't think you're the type of man to do anything nasty to a woman. I trust you..." She laid her head against his shoulder.  
Although, she was unable to keep herself from blushing when she felt his warm, rough fingers against the cool skin of her smooth thighs.  
Connor smiled at this, "I'm glad you think so highly of me."  
Silence reigned again as they marched deeper into the dark trees, the light rapidly climbing into the sky, heralding the approaching dawn.  
"Angelique, there's something I need to tell you. And something that you need to do for me," Connor said finally.  
The blond raised her head a little, "Yes?"  
"Those men your father was talking to last night. Those men were Templars."  
"Templars...?" She asked, confused.  
"Yes. Evil men who want to take control of the world. They're very dangerous."  
Angelique frowned in his dirty white coat, "What do they want with my father?"  
"From what it sounded like to me, he's working with them."  
She frowned a bit more and straightened, "Are you suggesting something about my father?"  
Connor seemed to sense the unstable ground before him, so he chose his words carefully, "I'm not saying your father is a bad man. For all I know, he may not even have an active part in the Templars. Perhaps just intelligence gathering. No one said that gathering information was good or bad."  
Angelique was silent, unhappy even with this response. The Mohawk gave a sigh as they walked, readjusting his grip on the backs of her legs.  
"Can you do something for me?" he dared to ask, even though he knew she was a bit upset.  
"What?" She asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.  
"I need you to listen in on his conversations if those men come back. You were able to do it last night and get away. I have faith you can get away with it."  
Angelique chewed her lip in thought, "I...I can do that. I'll just have to be quieter...I almost got caught a few times. Do I send you a letter or drop by your house?"  
"Either is fine, but I'd feel better if you could come by when you can. People tend to snoop in other people's mail these days," he said, glancing through the trees a moment.  
It wasn't long until they reached her family estate. She looked up through the trees, now that dawn was inches from showing itself.  
"You can walk from here," Connor said, gingerly setting her down, "You can hide the boots and the dress until later. When you get the chance, bury them or burn them. Just make sure it's far enough away that no one will see it, but don't go too far. The forest won't miss a chance to claim your life."  
Angelique nodded, "Um...can you...wait for me to get up there? After last night, I don't feel so confident about running around on my own."  
Connor paused, then gave a nod, "I will wait."  
Feeling relieved, Angelique turned and started to run. She clambered up the ivy to her room, throwing herself ungracefully into the room. She fell on her head on the feather mattress, but the rest of her rolled forward and she fell on her rear on the hard, cold wooden floor. She sprang to her feet and stripped out of her tattered nightwear, kicking the boots under her bed. She hurried to clean herself up before her parents got out of bed.

Angelique was being shaken awake by her mother as the carriage rolled down the dirt road. Grumbling, Angelique sat up a little.  
"Angelique, are you all right?" her mother asked worriedly, "You don't look well."  
"To be honest...I don't feel too well, mother," Angelique said with a yawn.  
"You look like you didn't sleep very much," her mother said, referring to the dark circles under Angelique's large blue eyes.  
"I didn't..."  
"Why not?" her mother asked worriedly.  
"I just couldn't..."  
But her mind had already replayed through last night, of seeing Connor shirtless, and the walk through the woods. Her cheeks flared pink when she remembered his warm touch on her legs.  
"Are you sick, child?" Her mother reached forward and touched her forehead, "You're awfully warm."  
"Must be," Angelique said dreamily, her eyes closing.  
'It was worth it, though,' she thought with a dreamy sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Connor wearily rubbed his dark face as he sat in a broad tree, watching the lumberjacks they'd hired recently make their way down the trail to head into town to sell their lumber. Connor hadn't slept at all the previous night, and he was beginning to wish he had at least taken a short sleep. But at the same time, he was a bit glad he didn't.

It had been a few hours since he'd helped Angelique home. In the time that she had been asleep in the chair in his main room, Connor had had a chance to study Angelique's features thoroughly. She was, in his opinion, beautiful. Most girls her age were only simply pretty. But Angelique had something different about her. Unlike the other girls he'd come across, she seemed so full of life. She was naïve, of course, all girls are, but in a different way. Other girls were oblivious as to how to survive on their own. Angelique was fully capable of taking care of herself, and she was fully aware of the vast differences between her people and Connor's.

As he had been watching her sleep, he had been mesmerized by the way her lashes fluttered when a part of her dream seemed to displease her, and the way her lips twitched, a soft mutter escaping those soft, plump pink lips when she seemed to be answering a question. Her fingers often flexed as she dreamed, like a puppy dreaming of chasing rabbits, or a content kitten nestling with its mother. She had been so peaceful and serene that he'd found himself unable to look away. He was jealous of her serenity, and transfixed by her innocent face.

"Connor!" A voice shouted from the house.

Slightly startled, Connor shook off his daydream and glanced over his shoulder at Achilles, who stood on the porch.

"When you're done daydreaming about that French girl, there's a few things I need you to do in town," the older man called, hobbling up to the tree.

Connor felt his face become hot as the blood rushed to his cheeks.

"I was not daydreaming about her!" he protested, jumping out of the tree.

Achilles regarded him with silent amusement, and Connor shifted uncomfortably under the look. It always made him feel like he was twelve-years-old.

"I wasn't…" he insisted softly.

"All right, all right, don't get your bloomers twisted," Achilles chuckled, and then he looked up at him shrewdly from under the brim of his wide hat, "She is very pretty, isn't she?"

Even the Mohawk's ears turned pink, but he refused to say anything that would implicate him. But the flush of his skin was answer enough for the older Assassin. Still cackling, he turned and started to head back towards the house.

Connor said nothing else as he retrieved a list of things the house still needed before it was completed, making ready to head into town. As he did, he bumped into their huntswoman, Mary. The woman smiled up at him as she hefted her rifle over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. Connor frowned at her, not liking the Cheshire grin she wore.

"What?" he demanded.

"Saw the pretty girl that came through last night. Hiding from the wolves, was she?"

"…yes…where are you going with this?"

Mary shrugged, "Nowhere. I just thought that she was incredibly pretty. It'd have been a shame if the wolves had gotten to her. Though I could see she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she just doesn't realize the full extent of her abilities."

Connor blinked, "I'm not sure I follow."

"The way her dress was ripped and the calluses on her hands? It was easy to see that she was far more capable of defending herself than any normal city girl," Then she elbowed Connor teasingly, "Got your eye on her, haven't you?"

Connor refused to blush this time as he stepped out of her reach, "No, absolutely not. She's an asset and a friend, never more than that."

Mary's smile seemed to widen, "You're not a very good liar, Connor."

"Probably not, but I am serious. Such relationships aren't available to me right now."

Mary rolled her eyes, "Only because you've closed that option off. She's a very pretty girl, and looks capable. You two would be a good match."

"I'm walking away from this conversation now, and I don't want to hear another word about it," he said, already striding away.

"But—"

"Not another word!" Connor called over his shoulder stubbornly.

It was late afternoon by the time he'd finished Achilles' chores. He tiredly rubbed his face as he sat down on bench not far from the canal that cut through Boston. He was still exhausted from the hard day yesterday and not sleeping at all last night. Having to track down specific merchants and avoid the British guards did not help him any.

Connor was even less happy when he saw Sam Adams striding towards him.

"Connor! Good morning!" He said, sitting next to him, "what brings you into Boston?"

"Doing a few things for Achilles," Connor answered dryly, rubbing his face again.

"You don't look like you've had a wink of sleep," Adams observed, studying the native's face.

"I haven't. I stayed up last night watching over a friend. She'd been chased by wolves on her way to visit. Poor girl was scared out of her wits."

"Ah, well, I can see where that would keep a man from—she?"

_Son of a—_

Adams grinned at Connor, "So, you comforted this friend of yours, yes?"

Connor glared at him from under his hood, "Not in that fashion. Besides that, she's too young to be exposed to such activities."

"Aha…so you like women close your age, hmm?" Adams teased.

Connor sighed and slapped a hand against his forehead, "Nothing's going on, Sam. She was coming up to visit, got chased by wolves, and ended up staying the night because she didn't want to go back out when the wolves might still be out there. I only stayed up with her to make her feel better."

"Aha…"  
"FOR THE LAST TIME, SAMUEL, I DID _NOT_ COMFORT HER LIKE _THAT_," Connor hissed.

Adams grinned, "Doesn't mean you didn't think about it. Don't tell me you didn't want to."

Connor hid his face behind his hand in exasperation. The sad truth was; he did want to. But what man wouldn't? Angelique was a pretty girl, smart and capable. They'd only met three times, but he'd taken an intense liking to the girl. She'd proven to be incredibly different from other women he'd met. She'd put herself through so much danger just to help him, and even put her own life at risk where any other woman would simply have put the matter down and forgotten it. But while he had wanted to, he could never ever bring himself to spoil her in such a way.

Samuel seemed sense what he was thinking, "You like her that much?"

Connor glared at him again in warning.

"What's she like?" The man asked in interest, "Tell me."

Connor sat his hand in his lap, looking across the street towards the harbor.

"Well…she's…I'm not really sure how to explain. Angelique is…unique."

"Angelique? She's French?" Adams elbowed him teasingly, "You know, they say that the French are great lovers."

Again, this received a warning glare and Sam laughed, waving it off, "Start off with what she looks like. She must be interesting to catch your eye."

"She's…petite. Skinny waist, long legs, elegant fingers. Blond hair, big blue eyes, soft voice…" Connor murmured, picturing her as she looked when she'd fallen asleep in the chair in the living room, "She's more than capable of handling herself in risky situation, she's smart, reasonable, and slightly crazy. She would have to be to chase me from the rooftops and visit in the middle of the night with wolves about."

Samuel smiled, "Sounds like you've got yourself a pretty little songbird. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

Adams about shot up from where he sat, a livid look in his eye.

"Nothing?! You meet a beautiful woman with rare qualities, she's beautiful, skilled, and obviously not like any other woman out there, and you're not going to do anything!"

Connor blinked at him, "Yes. Nothing. It's merely fascination and nothing more. It'll pass."

Adams narrowed his eyes on him, "If you say so. Listen, I have to go and attend other matters. I just wanted to come over and see how you were doing."

Connor was already back to staring across the canal, so Adams left. The native slapped a hand across his face.

'What the _heck_ am I thinking, anyway?'


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: I am so sorry that it's taken so long. I've been busy with the end of my senior year. I hope that when summer comes, I'll have some more time to do more chapters. Forgive me please!

Chapter Eight

Two weeks had passed since Angelique had snuck out to inform Connor of her father's late night meeting with the strangers Connor had called the Templars. She still hadn't heard anything new. As it was, she was sitting at her family dinner table, idly swirling her spoon in her soup, listening to her parents' conversation. Her mother was babbling about some new table set she thought would be wonderful to have. Her father was absently agreeing with her, obviously not interested in the subject but he wanted to humor his wife.

The blond glanced between them, then back down at her soup. Since meeting Connor, she'd noticed just how…_boring_ her life really was. Even though she now knew that her father was working with some very shady and possibly dangerous people. Music lessons and crocheting seemed to be an incredible waste of time next to running across rooftops and hiding in alleys. Very boring, and incredibly tame.

After a time, Angelique stood and pushed her chair back in. Both her parents looked up at her.

"Angel?" Her father asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. I'm just going to go upstairs and read before I go to bed. I got a new book while I was in town, and I thought I should get started reading it."

She left her parents to their resumed conversation. As she moved into the main room, an idea popped into her head. She hadn't heard anything of mention to Connor, so why not _find_ something to take to him? Her father's study seemed to be the best place to find answers to what those men were talking about the other night.

Making sure her parents were still talking and would be for a time, she ducked into her father's study and closed the door quietly. Moving to the wide desk, she started to go through the drawers. It seemed to be the most obvious place to find anything. But when she'd searched all the drawers and only found the ledger showing the estimates of the sales of the special tobacco her father sold, Angelique was beginning to realize she'd have to be more creative with where she looked. She tried to see if the drawers had secret compartments, or if the cushion on the chair would come up, or if the bookcases would move. The only thing she accomplished was making a mess of the books. Grumbling, Angelique started picking up the books. As she started to clear them off the wooden floor, she noticed one board seemed a little off color at one end than the rest of the wood that made up the floor. Hurriedly, she put the books away and knelt by the floorboard. It didn't look like it had ever come up, or been bent, or put under any strange stress, but it was still lighter than the rest of the floor. Angelique ran her fingers over the top of it, feeling the glaze and smoothness of the board. She applied pressure to the board, but it didn't even so much as squeak. Getting frustrated, she ran her hand the length of the board, to where it disappeared under the Persian rug. She lifted the fabric. The only difference in the board she could see was a knot it the wood. Definitely not something you want guests to see when you were rich and had nice floors. Curious, she ran her fingers over it, pressing it. The other end of the wood snapped upwards, revealing a small compartment.

Angelique scrambled over, plucking several papers and small books from the slot. Flipping through them, she could see that most of the papers had been stamped with a bulky red cross, much like what certain knights wore during the Crusades. Some of the papers mentioned an artifact, though much of it looked encoded. None of the papers looked like they'd been touched in some time. Thinking quickly, she searched for some paper and a quill. She laid out the stamped papers and copied as much of it as she could make out. Just because someone hadn't touched these papers in a long time doesn't mean they wouldn't notice them go missing.

Her copying was interrupted when she heard footsteps approaching the door to the study. Angelique, in her blind panic, flailed and tried to gather the stamped papers, shoving them under the floorboard again. She dropped the quill back in the inkwell on the desk and got to her feet, gathering up the copied papers. As she listened to the footsteps come even closer, Angelique looked for something to do with the papers. She couldn't hide them in the room; they'd be found no matter where she put them. Hurriedly, she yanked up her heavy skirts and petticoats, jamming them up the leg of her bloomers. The blond managed to smooth down the fabric and started to pull a book down from the shelf as her mother entered the room.

The older woman frowned as she looked at her surprised daughter.

"Angelique, what are you doing in your father's study? You know you're not allowed in here so late in the afternoon."

Angelique pulled her best innocent-child face, "I was only getting a book. I didn't understand something in one of my novels, so I was getting one of father's books to help explain it…"

Her mother gave her a withering look, but gave in. It was hard to resist the face she'd seen so many times as the girl grew over the years.

"Go on. Finish your chapter, get cleaned up, and get into bed."

"Yes, mother," Angelique said, hurrying past her mother, hoping that her skirts scrapping the ground covered the sound of paper rustling in her bloomers.

Upon returning to her room, she tossed the book on her bed and pulled the papers, making sure to give her leg a good scratching before she ruffled through the stack. Her sketches weren't particularly good, but they got the point across. Hopefully, Connor would be able to make sense of it. A tingle of excitement shot up her spine at the idea of getting to see him again. She'd only caught two brief flashes of him in town during the weeks she'd waited to find something interesting, but he'd always given her some sign not to come close. More than likely, he had been on some kind of a mission. But to get to talk to him again…she could hardly wait. Clutching the papers to her chest, she grinned widely. She hoped the night passed quickly, and that tomorrow would be here soon.

Early that morning, Angelique had gotten up and dressed quickly, hurrying down into the kitchen. She baked a small cake, big enough to fit into a basket. While it baked, she found some thick cloth in one of her mother's sewing kits, an old, ugly patterned thing that her mother had considered tossing for some time. She folded it several times to fit in the basket, and set the papers gently into the basket, and laid the cloth on top. The cake was finally finished just as the sun was beginning to rise and the household was beginning to stir. Before taking the cake out of the oven, the girl was sure to take a kitchen knife this time and stuffed it into her stocking. Angelique had just set the pastry into the basket on top of the cloth as her father came down the stairs.

He rubbed his face tiredly, "Minou? What are you doing up so early?"

"Sorry, papa," She responded with a sweet smile, "I was baking. I promised a friend a treat the next time I saw her, and we had made plans to spend the day together."

The man nodded, as if he weren't bothered by the suddenness of this lie, easily fooled by the girl's innocent face and tender smile.

"Very well…do you know when you'll be back?" he asked as he moved forward.

"It might not be until late in the afternoon."

The man nodded again, "Make sure the driver knows."

After placing a kiss on her father's cheek, Angelique took her basket and dashed outside, almost forgetting her cloak as she went.

The ride into town couldn't be done quickly enough. She watched as the trees seemed to pass by the carriage window slowly, melting snow dropping off of their black, naked branches. The dull rhythm of the horses' hooves against the dirt seemed to count off the seconds as she fidgeted in her seat, never letting go of the basket that sat on the cushion beside her. The moment the carriage stopped in the square, Angelique practically jumped out, not waiting for the driver to offer his assistance, as per proper etiquette. She smiled at the man.

"Merci, Francois. I won't be needing you until much later this afternoon. Perhaps around four?"

The man nodded, climbing back into the driver's seat of carriage. As soon as the carriage had disappeared down one of the many streets, Angelique shot off in the direction of the forest. She could still remember the way to Davenport. It wasn't far. And it wasn't nearly as scary during the day.

It wasn't long before she came upon the redbrick building. A smile lit her face as she ran the rest of the way up to the newly-painted door. She slid to a halt in front of it, pausing to catch her breath. She tried to make sure her appearance was in order; she smoothed her hair back down, straightened her skirts, and readjusted her cloak, wiping away any streaks that might have marked her face. Squaring off her shoulders, she rapped her knuckles against the painted wood and waited for a reply. After a few moments, she had started to raise her hand again to knock, but then the door slowly slid open, revealing Achilles. The old man's face split into a welcoming smile, his teeth bright against his dark, leathery skin.

"Well, hello again. I didn't expect to be seeing you back so soon. I, uh, hope you didn't bring any friends this time," He joked, glancing past her towards the woods.

Angelique flushed with the reminder of her midnight visit those weeks ago, wearing nothing but her thin nightdress that very quickly got tattered and wet.

Angelique cleared her throat, "I, um, I have something for Connor," She said, gesturing to the basket on her arm, "I-Is he here?" She asked.  
"Why don't you come inside?" Achilles moved to the side to let her in.

Angelique stepped into the foyer, moving to one side to let him shut the door. Now that the place was well-lit, she could see that the old mansion had recently been repaired, and rather well. The entire house was well-decorated. Not grand, but it had a certain dignity about it that beat out her parents' own mansion, which was dripping with grandeur and reeked of upper-class society. Achilles led her back into the same room where she'd fallen asleep when she'd run from the wolves.

"I'll go and fetch him if he's still around the estate," The man said, hobbling off, leaving her alone.

Angelique fidgeted nervously, the basket in her lap. She should have been used to the idea that spying for the native would mean having to meet him several times, but she was still unnerved being in his presence. Sure, he was an assassin, a killer, but that wasn't what made her uncomfortable around him. Maybe it was his penetrating black gaze, the way he seemed to see straight through her and know everything she'd done, no matter if the action was right or wrong. Maybe it was his mere presence, which seemed powerful as it rolled off of him as thick as smoke. He was a very intimidating man, in more than one aspect. But he was also a gentleman.

A door opened somewhere in the mansion and near silent footsteps made their way into the main room where Angelique was sitting. Angelique jumped up as Connor appeared in the doorway, her heart skipping a beat in her excitement. She offered him a nervous smile, her small hands wringing the basket's wicker handle.

"G-good morning," She stammered, her cheeks flushing pink.

The native returned her smile, "Morning. You had something for me?"

"Um, yes…" she set the basket on the only available table.

She pulled the cloth off the top of the basket, revealing the cake. The native raised his eyebrows.

"As delicious as that looks, I doubt you came all this way just to deliver a cake," He said with a small smile.

Angelique flushed as she looked up, sweat breaking out on the back of her neck at the smile that played on his dark lips. Incredibly distracting.

"N-no…I have something else…" She managed to stammer.

She carefully slid her hands down the sides of the basket, gripping the edges of the folded cloth and lifting it. She set the cake down on the table and pulled out the papers, holding them out.

"I did some snooping and found these in my father's study. I copied the originals; I was sure he'd find the originals missing sooner or later if I took them," She babbled, feeling incredibly nervous, "I have no idea what this 'artifact' could be. I was hoping you knew what it meant. It seems to be coded…"

Her sentence was suddenly cut off as his warm hands enclosed around hers as he took the papers. Her face flushed pink as his warm skin slid against hers as he accepted the stack.

"Thank you," He murmured softly.

He shuffled through the papers, frowning in thought as he looked them over.

"It might take some time to figure out what all these mean," he said softly.

"I-if I could find a key to the code, I might be able to assemble a message," Angelique suggested softly, hoping for another opportunity to be useful.

Connor raised his dark eyes to hers and gave her another soft smile.

"No, I think you've done enough for now. Your family will get suspicious if you disappear too often. And I imagine you had to do quite a bit of searching to find these. Trying to find a key will be much harder."

Angelique gave a nod, shifting in her spot. Silence fell between them for a few uncomfortable moments. She had no idea what to do or say. She felt so unnerved in this man's presence, to a point it was hard to think of anything other than his standing there, the soft smell of trees and oiled steel wafting off him.

"Angelique…I have a serious question I would like you to consider," Connor finally said after a few moments, moving forward and taking both of her tiny hands in his.


	9. My Apology

Dear Readers,

I'm so sorry for neglecting you so much! I promise I'm not doing it on purpose. I've been busy, what with graduating with school and working my first job (which is pretty awesome, because I get payed to play with animals. :D) I should hopefully be uploading some more chapters, so fear not!

I really do feel crappy for not updating on demand. I promise, a new chapter will be up soon. As soon as I can get time away, I'll start adding more. Again, very sorry!

With love,

Psychomidget


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